


Blame It on the Heat

by delighted



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-21 02:21:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11347854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delighted/pseuds/delighted
Summary: A lazy summer day pushes Danny to admit he wants something more than “nothing.”





	Blame It on the Heat

**Author's Note:**

> So, it’s hot here. This is, evidently, how I cope.

It was hot out. Not that it was ever really cold. But, this was really hot. And muggy. And still. That was the weirdest bit. Usually there was a nice island breeze. I mean, that’s a thing for a reason. But not today. It was having the effect of making Danny’s head feel thick. Almost like his brain was congested. Thick, but not heavy, which was also weird. He felt like he was swimming in pea soup—everything was slow and muted... and honestly, it was kind of nice.

Maybe that sounds weird, but the thing was, he didn’t want to move, and there was something really soothing about that. Typically weekends without the kids he tried to either keep busy so he didn’t obsess that he didn’t have the kids, or he was frantically getting caught up with housework so that when they did come later in the week Grace didn’t give him a lecture about the house being a mess. Or sometimes he did stuff with Steve. They preferred surfing on weekdays because it was less busy, although that wasn’t always true. But sometimes they’d not been able to make it out during the week and by Saturday one or both of them was itching to hit the waves. Less a thing in summer, when the waves were mostly too calm, and like today, it was just. Too. Hot.

Danny’d parked himself on his sofa, a cool glass of water by his side, watermelon chilling in the fridge for later—it was the only thing he really felt like eating, though he figured he’d have to make himself eat something else at some point. Maybe some vodka or something. That counted, right? He had a couple books sitting on the table. One he had started ages ago and never finished, and it had been nagging at him, but he just didn’t want it to end, so it was easier to ignore. The other he’d been looking forward to and knew that as soon as he started it he’d be sucked into it and lose himself completely and forget everything else. He wasn’t really up for that kind of a commitment, that kind of energy expenditure. So, he thought about putting something on the TV. But again, the thought of picking something was exhausting, and he was not in the mood for the mindlessness of channel surfing—he was mindless enough as it was. Besides, the thought of having an appliance on—any appliance—was unappealing.

So, he was sitting, scrolling through his various apps on his phone, only half paying attention, but marking a few things to read later, and laughing lightly at some amusing bits here and there. It was kind of dull, but it was this really nice dull that felt like survival in the oppressive heat, but also—and it seems a little strange, but it was refreshing.

Maybe it was because his mind was, for the most part, and not-per-usual, silent. And not in a negative way.

There’d been too much of both in his life lately. Swirling, intense thoughts, alternating in the blink of an eye with an utterly empty and silent head. And it wasn’t like he didn’t know _why_. He just couldn’t figure out what to do about it. So the fact that he was enjoying himself, and not thinking about those things (and not realizing that it was because he wasn’t thinking about those things that he was enjoying himself)... maybe explains why he’d forgotten about Steve, so that when he walked through the door holding a bag of groceries and calling out, Danny kind of jumped.

“Hey, buddy, did I startle you?” Steve laughed. He ducked into the kitchen to set the bag down, then came back to the living room, where Danny was taking slow breaths to calm his heart rate. “Sorry, Danny. I did knock, but you didn’t answer, so I let myself in.”

Danny stared blankly at Steve, trying to figure out why his peaceful quiet time had been so violently interrupted.

“We were going to watch the rest of that movie?” Steve prompted.

Groaning inwardly, Danny couldn’t believe he’d forgotten. He blamed the heat, of course. They’d been watching a movie earlier in the week, and had gotten interrupted by a case right at the pivotal moment of the plot. Steve had suggested, as Danny left the office on Friday, that since he didn’t have the kids that weekend they could finish it up on Saturday.

Damn.

_Alright, pull it together, Williams_ , Danny scolded himself. Thing was, he didn’t really want to pull together. He was enjoying feeling... apart.

Steve was looking at him suspiciously. “You forgot.”

“Yeah.”

“We don’t have to watch the movie, buddy. I brought snacks, we could just hang out and....” He must have caught something in Danny’s eyes, because he was pretty sure he’d been holding his face perfectly still, trying not to react, but Steve seemed to sense something, and he took a step back. “I could go—” he offered.

“Naw, babe, don’t be silly.” Danny felt rude. Steve had come all the way over in this heat, the least he could do is offer him a drink and the chance to cool off a bit. “I was just...” he chuckled awkwardly, not sure how to explain it. “Um, not really doing anything.”

Steve was remarkably quick, considering the heat. He visibly shifted gears, softening perceptibly, kicking his shoes off, and heading back to the kitchen—but not before slapping Danny on the back. “Sounds perfect. I’ll go get a drink and join you.”

Danny groaned a little to himself under his breath as he went to sit back down. Sure. Hanging out doing nothing with Steve. That was going to go well for him. Yeah.

Because suddenly, vague impressions of all of those things he’d been not remembering that he wasn’t thinking about came back to him, in dull flashes, slightly blurred, muted, and yet sharply reminding him that it was precisely his stupid, frustrating, barging-in partner that had been the focus of all of them.

Steve reemerged, as if on cue, smiling hugely, holding a glass of ice water to match Danny’s, and also a bowl of grapes. He didn’t say anything, but joined Danny on the sofa, sitting a respectable distance away, but then patting his legs to signal that Danny should put his feet up on them. Suppressing a sigh, Danny did as he was bid, then went back to his phone, accepting grapes as Steve dangled them over his head. Pulling out his own phone, Steve followed Danny’s lead, and it wasn’t too long before Danny’d slid back into that mindless browsing that had been so relaxing before Steve had shown up.

It wasn’t quite as relaxing now, though. Possibly because his heart hadn’t really settled back down after being startled out of its rest by the appearance of what was, unfortunately, the topic of most of its attention.

The oppressiveness of the heat won out after a bit, though, and Danny had nearly forgotten Steve was even there, when he felt one of Steve’s hands come to rest on his leg. It took all his resolve to not look up at the contact, but he managed. Then Steve yawned, leaned back, and settled a bit, as though he were getting ready for a nap. _Always let a sleepy Steve rest_ was one of Danny’s biggest rules in life, so he held himself still, kept the rhythm of his scrolling up, and tried to notice when Steve drifted off. As soon as he was sure Steve was asleep, Danny lowered his phone, and permitted himself a good look.

Steve looked so fucking content it felt like a blow to Danny’s gut. I mean, smug, self satisfied—these were words Danny applied to Steve’s expressions on a daily basis. But this had an extra layer of cat-like ownership to it that really felt like a punch. Because he saw—through the fog, though the haze, though the heat, through the muffled thoughts—that it was Danny who was making Steve look like that. It was Danny’s legs, proprietarily on Steve’s lap, and Steve’s hand, possessively on Danny’s leg. That scenario was creating the contented expression on Steve’s face. And, Danny shouldn’t have been surprised by that, but he was.

They’d been creeping towards this for, gosh, longer than he dared admit. The weekday movie nights? They had started feeling more than a little “couple”-y so long ago Danny couldn’t even remember when they last _hadn’t_ seemed like it. And weekday lunches? When had it become expected that on Tuesdays and Thursdays Danny got take out for them both, and on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, Steve brought salads for Danny (approved by Grace) and sandwiches for himself? And when had Steve taken over getting both the Camaro and the truck serviced (he even vacuumed them himself)? Danny did not know the answers to any of those questions, despite the amount of time he’d spent thinking about them over the past week. But somehow that expression on Steve’s face seemed to answer them all in one fell swoop.

As Danny sat, gazing longingly—uh, I mean... as he sat examining Steve’s expression. Yeah, that. He found himself increasingly discontented with the sort of holding pattern they’d been in. Not really moving forward, but certainly not retreating. It was kind of like treading water. It kept you afloat, but only for so long before you got bored or else you drowned. He wanted to either start swimming or get the fuck out of the water. Maybe the heat was making him irritable, or maybe the heat was holding back enough of his resistance that he was able to push through. Whatever it was, he had to get up and come up with a plan, so he set his phone down, took his legs carefully off Steve’s lap, and headed to the kitchen.

He poured himself a glass of vodka over ice, took a slice of watermelon out of the fridge and broke a bite off—tossing it in with the vodka, eating the rest. He swirled the vodka and ice in his glass, moving it in larger, then smaller circles on the kitchen counter, finding the clinking of the ice had a cooling effect he enjoyed. He must have gotten a little lost in it, and lost in his thoughts, because suddenly Steve was at his side, standing way too close, and saying softly, really close to his ear:

“That looks good. Can I have one?”

Danny couldn’t contain the shudder, his response to the near whisper in his ear. He could think of a number of things that looked good that he wanted one of. _Yeah, it was definitely the heat_....

He got another glass from the cupboard, filled it with ice, poured probably too much vodka in it, and pulled the plate of watermelon out from the fridge, setting them side by side on the counter and pushing them towards Steve, before picking up his own glass, downing it, and pouring himself another.

Steve watched the whole thing with a heat in his eyes that had nothing to do with the temperature outside. He went for the watermelon first, eating a whole slice before taking a second to break apart and add to his glass.

Danny reached over, and taking one of the pieces out of Steve’s glass, asked: “What are we doing?”

Steve took a sip of vodka, letting it filter through the watermelon. “I thought... nothing?”

“Yeah, that’s my point.”

He put his glass down, and looked Danny in the eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I’m tired of doing nothing,” Danny realized it had been nearly a whisper, though it had felt loud in his own ears.

Slowly, Steve offered: “You wanna watch the movie?”

“Don’t be dumb,” the irritation was clear in his voice.

Steve seemed to be stalling. Deliberately being obtuse? “Maybe you should eat something,” he suggested.

How was Steve not getting what he was after? “I’m not hungry.” (Managing to not add “you idiot.”)

Steve smiled indulgently. How was the heat not bothering him? “Which doesn’t mean you don’t need food....”

The solicitousness of that sentiment went directly to Danny’s heart, and it changed his posture and his mindset in one move. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?” The smile began evolving towards smugness.

“You look after me better than I look after myself.”

There it was—that unbelievably smug smile again.

“ _What_.”

The smile slipped just slightly. “I wasn’t sure you noticed.”

Danny rolled his eyes, sighing. “Kinda hard to miss.”

“Is it?” He’d turned serious, moved closer, and as he did so, Danny’s pulse sped up. Steve tended not to be overly serious, especially when talking about his attentiveness towards Danny, he tended to play it off with a good dose of equal parts snark and sass. This was most decidedly neither. And maybe that was the shift that opened the door. Maybe that was the moment he knew it was time to get the heck out of the water.

Danny sucked an ice cube into his mouth and walked even closer. Those hazel eyes glinted as he neared, and Steve swayed a little on his feet as though he were finding his balance, preparing for impact so to speak. Stopping just a few inches in front of him, Danny reached up just as Steve leaned down, and they met perfectly in the middle, Steve’s mouth quickly warming his ice-chilled lips, tongue searching for the ice cube, and drawing it into his own mouth. Straitening up, Steve bit down on the ice, and the shivers Danny felt had nothing to do with cold.

Steve plucked a piece of watermelon from his glass, sucked the vodka out of it, put it back, and pulled Danny harshly against him for a kiss that went a lot further than the first.

“Yeah, okay, maybe I’d better eat something,” Danny panted when Steve finally let him go.

There was that smug, satisfied expression again.

Steve went to the fridge, took out some chicken salad, slices of cheese, and more fruit. From the bag on the floor he pulled out a package of rolls. They stood at the counter and ate, sides pressed together despite the heat.

They lingered for a while, after they’d finished eating... as though they didn’t want to move apart but weren’t sure what to do next. Plus, it really was very hot. But eventually it became clear they needed to do _something_.

“Movie?” Steve asked quietly, looking down at his feet.

Danny pulled on his lower lip, hoped something would come into his head—a sense of what he wanted to do, what he might say, something—but nothing did. He felt a smile forming on his lips and found it surprised him just a little. Figuring it was as much as he was going to get, he took a breath, looked over at Steve, waited for eye contact, nodded, then gestured to the food indicating they should probably put it away first. While Steve put the leftovers away, Danny filled their glasses again, with watermelon and vodka and ice, handed Steve his, and grabbed a bottle of water as well.

They didn’t actually have much of the movie left, so before long they were right back at the same stuck place.

_Now what_.

After a while during which Danny’s mind noted that it was getting dark, but not cooler, Steve spoke. “I’m not really going to sleep tonight.”

Danny tried to focus, but his mind had gone into this bleary, zoned out kind of place. “Yeah?”

“It’s too hot. I’ll just doze a bit....” Steve trailed off, like maybe he was expecting a reaction.

Not really sure where he was going, Danny simply agreed. “Yeah.”

A deep breath, a pause that felt important. Then: “You could... doze with me...”

“Oh yeah?” Danny felt like he was shaking. Maybe he hadn’t had enough protein.

“Well, it’s cooler by the water,” Steve reasoned. “And, if a breeze picks up, it could be nice....”

Danny could almost smell the salt air. “Yeah, a breeze would be nice.”

There was another meaningful silence that seemed to stretch on for too long. Still no thoughts offered themselves up to Danny.

Steve cleared his throat. “So, what do you think?”

“About what?” Danny felt dazed, almost dizzy.

Steve took a very slow breath. “Danny. Please come home with me.”

Danny looked at his drink. Or, rather, at his empty cup. There were three small black watermelon seeds and the melted remains of the last ice cube. Mostly, nothing. Which seemed hugely symbolic all of a sudden. He looked up, and at Steve—who was watching him. Usually Danny had a pretty good idea of what Steve was thinking based on the expression on his face. Danny might wear his heart on his sleeve, but Steve displayed his mental process as a physical activity. But not tonight. Tonight he was still, taut, even. _Tense?_ Danny wasn’t sure. His own mental processes hadn’t been helped by the addition of vodka on top of the heat. The cup felt suddenly heavy in his hand. Empty, but heavy. And wasn’t that just about the sum of things.

Sitting forward so he could put his glass on the table, he turned to Steve. Slowly he brought his hands up to Steve’s face, pulled gently so that Steve came down to meet him, and Danny kissed him, lingeringly, but lightly. When he pulled back and looked at Steve’s expression to see if it had changed, he smiled. There he saw that playful, boyish, hopeful look Steve got if you offered him fresh pineapple, or an afternoon surfing, or a day with the kids. And that did Danny’s heart in. He decided his mind could come along if it wanted, if it ever caught up, but it didn’t matter, because his heart knew what it wanted, and since his mind hadn’t bothered to show up and add its two cents, well... there was just one thing for it.

“Yeah, babe. Sounds like a good idea.”

And he felt that symbolic water slide off him, as though he really were getting out of the water, and it was as if his limbs had to adjust to being back on land, to actually moving forward—a sensation which almost knocked him sideways. When Steve stood, pulling Danny up with him, he almost overbalanced, but Steve steadied him.

“You okay there, buddy?”

“Yeah, I think I really am.”

And maybe they didn’t sleep much that night, but they didn’t really mind, and a breeze did eventually pick up, and the rain came, and the heat finally broke... and that seemed pretty darn fitting as well.


End file.
